Feather of a Day
by CyndraofShadowClan
Summary: Italy's day was a nice one, calm, peaceful, and serene. He had never expected what was to come. Just a short one-shot


Wazzup! Just a short one-shot I wanted to do and try and see if I could do one-shots. Plus I'm also practicing detailing my stories more. Hope it turned out all right even though it's short as hell. ^^;

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><p>The young Italian lay back in a field, staring up at a dazzling blue sky. The day was amazingly warm. Partly cloudy with their white fluff drifting by in the higher altitude. A gentle and pleasantly warm breeze blew by, never seeming to end. It caressed his face with such loveliness; he almost thought it was his lover. He wasn't the only one affected by the wind. The grass that surrounded him sang softly to its touch, wavering in unison to the breeze.<p>

Italy smiled and closed his eyes, taking the chance to relax and get away from all the noise and tourism of Venice. His painting supplies lay next to him along with a finished oil painting on medium sized canvas. The colors and hues matched up perfectly with the golden field that flowed like water all around him, and the beautiful scenery in the background blended out the painting so well.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. The warm air caressed his cheeks again. The feel was so familiar he leaned into the wind, hoping it were solid mass as he imagined the man in front of him. Italy touched his cheek, smiling at the thought of him being right there with him. He sighed happily, not being able to wait until next time he meets his German companion.

"Italy."

His eyes opened up at his name. In his confusion he sat up and looked around. Had he imagined it? It was completely possible. Even with that, the voice sounded like…

A tear rolled down his cheek which he wiped away shortly after. He stood up and gathered his supplies, taking care in putting them away in the bag he carried for them. He took one more look back at the scene he painted before starting his walk back into town.

Everything hit the ground suddenly, a sharp gasp sucked through his lips. Italy's hand slowly went up to his cheek. It felt as if a feather had tenderly passed over his skin, a warm feather. Looking around him quickly, he saw no birds flying off and no feathers falling to the ground. He could not have imagined it a second time.

His breath caught in his throat when he realized he was being watched. Turning swiftly on his heels, he stared, just stared, at what… who stood before him. A feather then floated between them.

The person said no words, he only held out a hand. His attire was black uniform, black cloak, black hat. Only a smidgen of white stood against the uniform. Pressed against his back was a pair of beautiful white wings that seemed to glow in the burning sunlight. On his face, a soft smile with glimmering eyes to match.

Italy was absolutely stunned at the person in front of him. Frozen in his place, unable to even blink, he simply stared. The angel chuckled lightly and stepped forward, only a few inches from Italy. Reaching up, he placed a hand on the kid's cheek, bringing the nation back to earth like an anchor being dropped. "You've grown so much."

Before Italy could respond, a light kiss was placed on his lips. They shared the moment for several seconds with closed eyes before the angel pulled away. "I'm always watching over." He then turned to leave but was stopped by a grab on his hand.

"Wait!" Tears welled in Italy's eyes. "What would've happened if you hadn't have fallen?"

Turning back, taking the hand held in his, he answered, "Then you would be mine. Although, that's not the case, is it?"

Italy paused, unsure of what to say.

The angel leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Take care of him. We will meet again one day." He stepped backwards, smiling at Italy. His wings spread, showing their beauty and grace. "One more thing." He looked Italy up and down. "I still think you're a girl sometimes." He gave a light laugh at the blush that painted the other's cheeks before jumping in the air and flying off, disappearing into the brilliant sky.

A little feather drifted down in front of Italy. Its delicate fall was stopped by tan hands catching it, holding it gently. He brought the feather up to his lips, feeling the softness of the barbs. "Holy Rome," he muttered while a wide smile.

Italy picked up his dropped supplies, heart singing in his chest, and skipped happily home, humming a light tune all the way.


End file.
